


Too Hot, Too Bothered, Too Hungry

by cyndisision



Series: Too Steve [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: D/s overtones, M/M, PWP, Steve Rogers: tactical sex genius, first time in a new body, outdated views about same-sex relationships, trans!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 18:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10224791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndisision/pseuds/cyndisision
Summary: Much as he wants to strip Bucky out of his uniform, there’s a nervous voice in the back of his mind reminding him that he knows exactly what Bucky’s like naked, but Steve’s body is all new. Maybe it’s not the best idea to get Bucky all naked and vulnerable first; it’ll be awkward if he finds out he needs to beat a retreat.Steve and Bucky reconnect after the serum transformation, and discover that super strength has some unexpected advantages. Takes places after the scene in the requisitioned schoolyard inToo Naïve, Too Pretty, Too Weak.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For more info on the "outdated views about same-sex relationships" tag, please see the end notes.

It’s a couple of weeks before Steve gets Bucky to himself; weeks of lingering looks, of not-quite-touches, of standing just a hair too close during briefings, staunchly looking at the map and not at each other. 

Steve lies in his bedroll each night pretending it’s the rocky ground keeping him awake, and not the knowledge that Bucky’s only just the other side of Morita, faking sleep. A super-soldier’s hearing can tell the difference. Unconsciously, he lets his breathing fall into sync with Bucky’s and wonders whether Bucky’s sleepless thoughts are along the same lines as his own. 

He draws on his memories to keep him warm, even knowing it’ll never be quite that way again. He never needed Bucky to rescue him—he’ll still go to his grave insisting on that—but now, looking back, he can admit that it was comforting to be gathered in the circle of Bucky’s arms. To feel enveloped by that strength. 

Is Bucky imagining Steve as he used to be—small, and soft, and feminine? They agreed they were going to try this, when they had that too-short kiss back in England, but when they finally have the chance, will there be the weight of too much anticipation? Will Bucky find he’s been trying to fool himself that nothing has changed, when really everything has changed? 

And then, after days of slogging through the woods, the Howling Commandos find themselves in a village in newly-liberated southern France, where the grateful owner of a boarding house insists that the “handsome Americans” stay in comfort. After all, her house has been empty since the Nazi scum left. There are rooms enough that they can bunk just two or three in each, and that’s how Steve and Bucky find themselves dropping their packs on the floor of a tiny French bedroom with a brass bed, and matching floral curtains and quilt. 

They stand there face to face for a few moments, not quite close enough to touch, trying to read each other’s expressions. The air feels charged, and Steve flashes back to another time, in another bedroom, in another life, when Bucky first saw him dressed as a man and came to him with no hesitation. 

Bucky draws a ragged breath, can’t seem to get any words out, and Steve knows he should wait for Bucky to make the first move, but remembering that other time emboldens him. He takes one stride into Bucky’s personal space and reels him in, until their lips are just inches apart. He feels hot breath on his face, coming quick and heavy, and there’s no fear in Bucky’s eyes, only desire. He sweeps Bucky up the rest of the way and presses their lips together. 

He’s rewarded right away with hands on his back, one sliding up, the other sliding down, and with a flicker of Bucky’s tongue on his. He closes his eyes and gets lost in the kiss, in Bucky’s familiar taste. It’s Bucky who ramps up the urgency, pressing the length of his body up into Steve’s. 

The growl Steve makes is not intentional, and he doesn’t realize before he does it that he’s going to shove Bucky against the wall and trap him there with his body. 

They pause in the kiss, and Bucky blinks, winded. 

Steve drops his hands from Bucky’s waist in horror, and takes a step back. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry!” 

He didn’t mean to hurt Bucky, knows he still hasn’t quite gotten a handle on his own strength. But more than that, he doesn’t want to scare him. This thing they’re rebuilding, it’s fragile; if he holds on too tight he might crush it. 

Bucky grabs his wrist to stop him from backing up further. 

“Do that again,” he says, low and intense. 

“What?” 

“Do that again. Only…” he glances at the side wall, where just a few feet away in the next room Jones and Dernier are bunking down for the night. “Maybe a bit quieter.” 

Steve wants to object, but he takes a proper look at Bucky; his chest is heaving with panting breaths, his eyes are wide and dark, and his lips are flushed and swollen. The growl rises up again in his throat, and he pushes Bucky by the shoulders until his back hits the wall. 

Without breaking the kiss, he reaches down, snakes a hand around each of Bucky’s wrists, and drags them up to pin them against the wall. He pulls back for a moment to enjoy the sight, and Bucky chases him with his mouth for more kisses. 

Oh, now that won’t do. 

Super-soldier strength can be incredibly useful, for example in allowing him to pin both wrists with one hand while he leans his other arm across Bucky’s chest, trapping him. Bucky tugs against the restraint, just testing, not trying to break free. 

“Are you being insubordinate, soldier?” 

Steve has no idea where that came from. True, he’s used to giving orders now, used to playing a role, used to taking the lead with the USO girls. But things were never this way between him and Bucky. 

The important thing is, Bucky seems to like it. 

“Sir, no sir!” The words come out cocky and flippant, but he’s already hard against Steve’s thigh. 

That’s Steve’s cue to push his leg in between Bucky’s, trapping him tightly enough that Steve can take the hand that isn’t pinning his wrists, and move it to tangle in his hair. He yanks back Bucky’s head, just this side of ruthless, and teases with a sweet kiss that he won’t let Bucky get close enough to deepen. 

“Ungh,” Bucky groans into his mouth. “You’re killin’ me here.” 

“I’m only just getting started,” says Steve with a predatory grin, and plants a string of light kisses down the side of Bucky’s neck until he gets down past the unbuttoned collar of his uniform shirt. He bites down on the meat of Bucky’s shoulder, gently at first, and increasing the pressure when he feels Bucky trying to press up into him and hears his whimpering. He eases off with his teeth, sucking and laving the bite with his tongue before pulling back to look at his handiwork, a bruise already blooming red. The bite is below the collar line, but Steve will know it’s there. 

Steve keeps an implacable grip on his hair, not pulling exactly. No, Bucky’s doing that for him, writhing like he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to do. His lips move in silent desperation. 

“I can’t hear you, soldier. Speak up.” 

“More!” pants Bucky. 

Steve rewards him with a press of his thigh against Bucky’s throbbing crotch, and releases his hold on Bucky’s hair long enough to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, one-handed. He indulges a quick mental picture of ripping the shirt off, buttons flying everywhere, but since mending their uniforms is a constant pain in every soldier’s ass, he files that thought away for another time. 

The shirt hangs open, baring Bucky’s torso, and Steve lets his eyes rove over it as though he’s never seen it before. He cards his hand through Bucky’s hair again before tightening his fist and watching the line of Bucky’s neck as he tries to arch into it, gasping wordlessly. 

“Where’s your smart mouth now?” he asks. 

“Wherever you want me to put it,” says Bucky, and yeah, okay, he should’ve expected that. 

He gives Bucky an indulgent smile. “If you’re good.” 

He dips his head again to make his way down Bucky’s chest, nipping and biting until he reaches the nipple, where he sucks for a second, rolling it gently between his teeth, before biting down as hard as he dares. Bucky makes a choked-off sound, and he has to risk a glance upward to make sure this is still okay. Bucky’s eyes are starting to glaze, his expression blissfully hazy. 

Steve decides to take that as encouragement, snaking his hand down to undo the button of Bucky’s pants and palm him through the cotton of his drawers. 

Much as he wants to strip Bucky out of his uniform, there’s a nervous voice in the back of his mind reminding him that he knows exactly what Bucky’s like naked, but Steve’s body is all new. Maybe it’s not the best idea to get Bucky all naked and vulnerable first; it’ll be awkward if he finds out he needs to beat a retreat. 

He keeps one hand in Bucky’s pants, presses demanding kisses to his mouth, then lets go of Bucky’s wrists where they’ve been pinned to the wall above his head. 

Ignoring Bucky’s disappointed whine, he says, “Now undress me.” 

“Yes, sir,” says Bucky, a hungry light in his eyes, and his hands go immediately to Steve’s buttons. 

“Slowly,” Steve instructs him. 

Bucky’s hunger intensifies as he peels off Steve’s clothes one by one. He returns Steve’s insistent kisses, fumbling with the buttons. Steve keeps kissing him when his pants and drawers slip down to the ground, keeps kissing him as he steps out of them, until finally he’s naked. He takes a half step back to let Bucky have a look at him. 

They’ve been sharing close quarters in the army, so Bucky’s seen most of Steve’s new body before, just not all at once, and now his eyes are wide. His hand comes up, as if involuntarily, just like Peggy’s had when Steve first stepped out of the pod. 

Steve nods in answer to the unspoken question, lets Bucky run his palms over the planes of his muscles for a minute. He holds his breath, unable to read Bucky’s expression, and shivers into the touch as Bucky’s hand skims over a nipple, down the sensitive skin of his sides. 

After a few moments he realizes his eyes have fluttered closed, and he forces them open again to study Bucky’s face. Far from being nervous, or horrified, or repulsed, it’s… reverent. 

The relief that floods through him is quickly chased by a renewed surge of lust, and he presses forward, palms against the wall either side of Bucky’s head. Bucky’s kisses are insistent, the noises from his throat desperate. Steve lets him roam his hands over Steve’s body, mapping out the new contours, and gasps as he slides one hand between them to wrap around Steve’s cock. 

The heat closes tight around him, and Bucky gives a few experimental strokes, watching Steve’s reactions before settling into a rhythm. His hands were always clever. The anatomy might be different now, but his skill is the same—as is his enthusiasm. The knot in Steve’s chest starts to unclench as he allows himself to believe things will be okay between them. 

Steve relaxes into it, allows himself to revel in sensation, lets a low groan escape his lips. His hands tighten on Bucky’s hips, hard enough to bruise, but all Bucky seems to register right now is pleasure, arching toward him, the rhythm of his hand on Steve’s dick stuttering. 

A look crosses Bucky’s face, and he opens his mouth like he wants to speak but doesn’t quite dare. 

“You got somethin’ to say?” Steve asks. 

“I want….” Bucky breaks off, swallowing. 

“You want somethin’, you haveta ask for it,” says Steve. 

“I want your dick in me,” Bucky rasps. “Please?” 

Steve feels like he’s in a plane at high altitude, the air too thin to breathe, his blood pounding in his ears. He takes several moments to compose himself before he trusts his voice enough to say, “Are you sure?” 

“Been thinkin’ this over for weeks, and trust me—never been surer.” 

People didn’t exactly used to talk to Steve about how queers and fairies do things, not back when they saw him as a woman, but he’s picked up enough over the years to know men can still be normal if they are the one sticking it in someone else. And Steve, well, he’s played the woman’s part before. Guess he just assumed he’d be playing it again. He fights the impulse to ask Bucky if he really knows what he’s letting himself in for. Bucky said trust me, and of course he trusts Bucky. He trusts Bucky with his life, with his heart, with everything he is. Of course he trusts Bucky to know what he wants; anything else would be an insult. 

“Well,” he says finally, allowing a wicked grin to spread across his face. He runs a hand slowly down Bucky’s belly toward his cock, which twitches in response. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

He crushes Bucky to him, their bare chests sliding against each other in a slick of sweat, and spins Bucky around. Grabbing Bucky by the upper arms, he steers them both toward the bed, and shoves Bucky down onto it. 

It gives a creak loud enough to startle him into a bark of laughter. 

“Guess it’s the floor for us, then,” he says, giving Bucky a dirty smile. 

He watches Bucky step out of his pants, his flushed, heavy cock bobbing. Steve licks his lips and turns to dig in his pack for a small jar. When he looks back, Bucky’s standing on the rug, hesitant, waiting for instruction. 

Well, Steve has a plan, even if Bucky doesn’t. “Take off your clothes and lie down on the rug.” 

Bucky locks his gaze on Steve’s as he sinks down, smooths out the threadbare rug, and arranges himself on it, spreading his legs suggestively. He’s having fun, showing off, and it’s certainly having the intended effect. 

Steve sinks to his knees between Bucky’s thighs, at least in part because his legs suddenly don’t want to hold him up any more. 

“You know what to do with this?” he asks, handing the jar to Bucky. 

Bucky nods. 

Steve can’t help a sneaky little grin, because he himself only knows in the most general sense. “Put on a show. Let me watch.” 

Who says sex can’t be educational? 

Bucky slicks up the fingers of one hand with the Vaseline, reaches down around his leg to give Steve the best view as he slides the tip of one finger inside himself. Steve can’t help but gasp at the sight of the finger slowly working in and out, deeper with each stroke. Bucky gives a mirroring gasp; his face is intent, eyes closed, his lower lip trapped between his teeth. He must know what he looks like. Well, you did ask for a show, Steve thinks, grasping the base of his dick so he won’t shoot his load right there and then. Turns out Bucky can be good at following orders. 

He adds another finger and changes something in his angle, and suddenly has to bite back a moan, which makes Steve realize— 

“You’ve been practicing!” 

His mouth goes dry at the thought of Bucky, furtive and sweaty at base camp, or in the requisitioned barracks, three fingers deep in his own asshole and making sure he’ll be good and ready for Steve. 

“C’mon,” Bucky gasps. “You’re not gonna make me wait, are ya?” 

"Just for that I’ve got half a mind to leave you here while I shine my boots.” Steve makes his point by grabbing Bucky’s hand, dragging his fingers out of his asshole. 

Bucky whines in response; Steve doesn’t think he even knows he’s doing it. He tugs in an attempt to get his hand back, but Steve just smiles and holds his wrists immobile in the air like it’s no effort at all. 

Truth is, while Steve’s kneeling there pretending he’s cool as a cucumber, his blood is pounding in his veins and he’s just about ready to blow, so he gives an indulgent smile like he’s only doing this for Bucky’s sake, coats his dick with Vaseline, and presses the head of it to Bucky’s hole. 

They both still for a moment, Steve trying to read what's written in the lines of tension in Bucky’s body, ready to pull back if there’s any hint of reluctance there. All he sees is anticipation, impatience. 

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he starts to push his way inside. Bucky tries to press up, to get more, but Steve holds him in place with a crushing grip on his hips, savoring the frustrated growl that produces. 

It’s blindingly tight and searingly hot inside Bucky, and he leans forward, one hand on the floor beside Bucky’s head, hardly daring to move. Their breath mingles in the air between them. He shivers as Bucky trails one finger along the line of a bead of sweat that’s rolling down his chest, then puts the tip of his finger to his lips and sucks the salty liquid off. 

That breaks the spell that’s keeping Steve in place, and he starts to thrust. Bucky arches back, his neck bared, gasping. 

He picks up the pace, sliding in and out of that incredible heat, and Steve knows he isn’t going to last long. 

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and stifles a groan as Bucky moves to comply. 

Bucky jerks himself off, and Steve’s hand roams over the rest of his body, fingers digging bruisingly into the soft flesh when he feels the tight clench around his dick. When Bucky looks close to coming, Steve gives a brutal twist of his nipple, and that sends him over the edge. Steve leans down to swallow Bucky’s cries in a smothering kiss. 

As soon as he stops holding back, his own climax crashes over him, and his vision whites out. 

He comes back to himself a few moments or a few hours later, slumped over Bucky, barely holding his own weight. 

“Sorry,” he says, easing himself out and rolling off. “Didn’t mean to crush you.” 

Bucky mumbles, “Don’t be sorry,” or something like it. When Steve looks at him, his eyes are hazy, a dazed half-smile on his lips. 

Steve lets his head rest on the painted floorboards and waits for his heart to stop trying to burst its way out of his chest. 

~*~ 

Steve wakes up in the floral bed, curled on his right side with Bucky fitted snugly behind him, just like he used to when Steve was in his old body. Bucky’s left hand traces lazy swirls on Steve’s skin. 

A sleepy, contented groan escapes his throat. 

“You gonna put that hand to work, Sergeant, or just keep teasing?” 

“Sorry, pal, no time. Marching orders, remember?” 

Steve turns over to study Bucky’s expression. “That was okay, what we did, yeah?” 

“More than okay, Steve.” 

Steve reaches out to trail his fingers along Bucky’s neck. 

“Huh,” he says. 

“What?” 

“Was worried I’d done a real number on your shoulder there, but I guess it’s not that bad.” 

Sure enough, the vicious bruise Steve sucked into his flesh last night already looks a couple of days old. 

“Guess you’ll have to try harder next time,” says Bucky with an evil glint in his eye. 

A grin spreads across Steve’s face, but before he can say anything there comes a series of heavy knocks on the door. 

“Alright, you two,” comes Dum-Dum Dugan’s voice. “Stop sucking each other’s dicks and get downstairs for breakfast.” 

They freeze, matching deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces. It’s Bucky who recovers first. 

“Don’t be jealous, Dugan,” he says in a raised voice. “Maybe Colonel Philips will take you somewhere special when we get to camp.” 

When Dugan’s steps have retreated down the stairs, Steve finally finds his voice. 

“That was just regular army talk, right? Just guys giving each other shit?” 

“Yep,” says Bucky, with way less confidence than he’s probably aiming for. “Sure it was.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Outdated views about same-sex relationships": Steve thinks of topping and bottoming as "taking the man's/woman's role", or at least he expects that Bucky will think that way, and not want to "be the woman". He's never happier to find he was wrong about something!


End file.
